My world pauses as I wait to see one last hand come through the opening.
“Come on, Larkin,” I whisper, my eyes focused only on the beach.
He doesn’t move through the wall.
“I need to close it back up,” Silas says. “I can’t keep it open if someone else isn’t coming through.”
“Wait,” I plead. “He’s coming.”
“Briar, I don’t want to, but I have to,” Silas warns, and I can tell he’s struggling with this decision.
“Wait!” I scream at him this time.
“I have to close it…or I risk the entire wall falling.”
In this moment, seconds feel like hours as I wait for him to pass through the wall, but only the crashing waves come through. My anxiety churns like the sea, and a dread I’ve never felt before washes over me as my hands tremble.
“I can’t hold it with the tear, it’s too much for me,” Silas admits, as his face contorts in sheer pain.
“We will find him, Briar,” Oak calls.
I close my eyes and feel hopelessness seeping into my soul. The small hole fills once more with a thick shadow.
I begin to cry.
He should be here.
The small opening begins to close fully, but I feel as if a new wound in my heart begins to open. The wall pulses once more, and I gaze at the obscure fog, tilting my head.
“Silas!” I scream, and he grits his teeth against the hesitation. “Wait.”
I narrow my eyes, watching the shadow wall flicker like a lit candle, and time slows. I suck in my breath, and attempt to steady my pounding heart. I step closer, the slapping waves drown out all sounds, and my body vibrates with anticipation.
Come on.
A bloody hand punches through the wall, and I step closer, not breathing.
Come on, Spiridon.
Silas curses under his breath, and I watch in disbelief, ignoring everything else around me.
Please, Gods.
Another bloody hand grips the sand, turning the white beach a shade of red around it. The two arms drag its body toward the shore, and my eyes widen. A few of the surrounding Wielders pause, waiting for the figure to fully emerge. The shadow wall seals shut as the figure appears on the beach, coated in blood, sweat, and desperation.
Larkin Spiridon slumps to the ground on our side of the wall.
Relief strikes me harder than any blow I’ve ever endured, and I take off in a dead sprint toward him, shifting in small bouts to get there faster.
He rolls onto his back, and his chest heaves with exhaustion as his hands fall to his side. The waves nearly obscure his body,and the sand conceals his torn armor, but he’s here. I reach him as he struggles to lift his weary form.
“Larkin,” I exclaim, and feel as if my legs can’t move fast enough.
He lifts his head, and a tired smile appears on his sand-coated face. He gives us a shaky thumbs-up.
Larkin rises on his elbows, allowing the waves to crash against his body, before rolling to stand on shaky legs. He begins to limp up the shore as quickly as possible, trying to create distance between himself and the ship. Silas follows behind me, along with Oak, as I slam into Larkin’s body. He staggers back a few steps as I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before his unsteady hands wrap around my back, returning the squeeze.
He groans against my hold, but I squeeze tighter.
